I will start this by saying there is no way I can relate to the feelings represented in Ross Gay’s “Pulled Over in Short Hills, NJ, 8:00 AM”. I am a cisgender white woman who grew up in a privileged area, went to a wonderful well-funded school, and have never had to experience an event like that which Gay describes. But I found myself reading this poem again and again and wanted to try to put my own spin on it in terms of language and communication style. Instead of focusing on feelings of physical fear, I decided to draw from feelings of anxiety when public speaking and having to present. I paralleled the rage and anger felt by the author with the overwhelming fight or flight feeling that comes over me when I need to present something important in front of a large audience. This is a different kind of fear and one without such high stakes as an encounter with a policeman during a time of racial inequality and fear. But I saw my own fight or flight tendencies somewhat in the trapped feeling that emanates from Gay’s poem, the urge to leave a situation and being unable to do so. I really liked Gay’s poems for this week and am interested to see what others have to say about him!
It always starts with the heat. Red blooms
Across a face unaccustomed. Yet all too
Aware of the feeling. Like a scald of boiling water
The heart races and tells the body “fight or flight”
Yet the more you realize the sensation, the less you
Can control. The words fall clumsily from my mouth
And I can’t keep up with what I’m saying.
I look out at the crowd of confusion
Wondering what they think of me or if this will
Ever go well.
I grip the piece of paper and look down to rush through
Hoping this ends soon and that they can’t see the sweat
On the small of my back. Almost to the end of the paper
Please be done please be done please be over.
Poems written in a moment of full-body panic really test the ability of words to convey the kind of embodied anxiety represented. Gay does this interestingly by presenting that opening brief sentence about “shaking,” and then letting the poem unfold from there in a single sentence. The poem traces the movement of that shaking from body to hand, which is so powerfully juxtaposed against that easy, fluid motion of the hand massaging the gun.
The moment you capture is more extended, but I like how you captured that sense of panic through shorter sentences and repetition (especially towards the end). Rendering panic / trauma in language is extraordinarily challenging, but it can also be so moving.
Grace, I love reading your poetry. I’m looking forward to saying, “I took a class with her.” Apart from my pride in you as a committed poet, I appreciate your skilled use of syntax, enjambement, and sensory/imagery in this poem.
Also, I 100% identified with the emotions you conveyed. I can’t speak without having a nervous breakdown because I never know what I’m saying! Being multi-lingual has its advantages but I fumble all the time. We all see words and concepts before we try to articulate them, what I see and think is usually in a different language than the one I am trying to speak. It makes me bat shit crazy. I live in constant anxiety because I never know if what I am saying makes sense!! Thanks for putting this feeling into such lovely words.